


The World Itself Is The Bad Dream

by LadyOneiroi



Category: The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 04:40:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/909028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyOneiroi/pseuds/LadyOneiroi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years after the fall of 1966, Pony starts believing his lies. It starts when he tells himself that Two-Bit was the only one who really cared when he and Johnny vanished, and continues until he thinks he is perfectly fine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World Itself Is The Bad Dream

He was a little too tired and a little too drunk, and so all of Ponyboy Curtis’ ghosts came out to play. Sitting alone in his dorm, nursing his last bottle of the horsepiss labeled Budweiser, he thought he heard Johnny Cade’s last words banging around in his head and heard the shrill last cries of a defiant Dallas Winston. He was aware that hearing things was not healthy, but he was drunk and depressed. He was also alone. The voices made for company at least, though not the good kind.

He kept playing the days before, during, and after the incident over and over in his head. The movie house his mind had become was almost comforting. Pony had always been good at retreating inside of himself. He considered it a survival mechanism, just as much as Soda’s disarming smiles or Dallas’ frightfully cold composure.

Did anyone care, really? Sure, Darry and Soda were relieved to have him back, and even Steve looked glad to see him returned safely, but what had they honestly done? What had anyone done to find him? Nobody did a Goddamn thing. With a bitter chuckle, Pony considered maybe everyone would have been ok with him and Johnny staying gone. He took another swig of beer as something occurred to him.

Two-Bit.

Dallas had said the ginger was willing to jump in the old junker he had been rolling around in back in ‘66 and go clear to Texas to look for the lost boys. To look for him. Somebody cared. The knight in shining armor for Pony’s evening was the goofy-looking, lanky idiot that lived down the street from him growing up. What a load of shit. Pony didn’t like thinking about Two-Bit in that manner at all.

By the time Pony located the bottom of his bottle, he had convinced himself that Two-Bit’s actions were those of a concerned potential lover and the man should be worshipped for his attempts to convey his affections. For once, Pony lied to himself and believed it. It was a turning point in his life, really, moreso than the fall of 1966 could ever have been. He needed somebody living with him, though it would be another week before he went home for winter break. Surely by then, he would be sober enough to realize what an ignorant fool he was being.

No such luck.

Pony stood in the front yard of his childhood home, trying not to stare at Two-Bit. The ginger was leaning against Darry’s car and watching the clouds. Five years had done little to change Keith Mathews, except for a few new battle scars on his face courtesy of bar brawls. He didn’t grease his hair anymore, too focused on trying to be ‘presentable’ for his job, whatever that was. Truth be told, all the time Two-Bit was playing catch-up, Pony’s eyes were locked on the way his full lips moved. When Two-Bit looked back down, the tiny brunet was right before him.

"Jesus, kid, don’t scare me like that." he chuckled, running a hand through his short hair. Pony’s heart was racing in his chest as he looked at the older man. His would-be savior. Once upon a time, perhaps his future.

"How’s college?"

Pony frowned. Who would ever want to talk about college when more important things were on the line. “It’s okay." he answered curtly. Two-Bit bit the inside of his cheek and tried to continue conversation with the unwilling boy.

"You doing okay, Pony? You ain’t been drinking too much, have you?"

He just kept talking, asking about how Pony was doing, if he was drinking again (so what if he drank a little between Halloween and Valentines Day, it wasn’t that big of a deal.), if he was thinking right (it had only been once he said all that stupid stuff, damn, what was everyone’s problem?). If Pony had to hear one more word, he was going to explode. He did it.

He put his lips to Two-Bit’s.

There was a moment of shock ,where everything seemed perfect, where Two-Bit did not pull away, where Pony was still dreaming.

Then Pony was thrown to the ground and the look in Two-Bit’s gray eyes was one of fear and confusion. “What the fuck?!" he hissed, stepping away from Pony. “You want to get me killed, you stupid shit? In fucking public?!"

Pony was taken aback. Hadn’t he wanted it? Hadn’t that been what he’d been implying for five years?

"Why?"

Pony barely heard the question through the ringing in his ears, could barely register anything beyond the tightness in his chest.

"Texas."

A strange sort of calmness spread of Two-Bits features as he looked down at Pony, all disdain fleeing from his expression. “You’re fucking drunk." he decided, not even wanting to know what Texas had to do with anything. Pony realized what his friend thought and quickly gathered his thoughts.

"You were willing to go to Texas."

The words are a murmur, soft as a spring shower. Two-Bit strained to hear them, but when they hit, his face is all rue.

"Kid, no."

Pony’s chest hitches like he might start sobbing at any moment.

"I was just looking out for you, Pony. You’re my friend. Shit, you and Soda and Darry, the whole gang even, ya’ll are the closest thing I ever had to brothers. I was just.. trying to be a friend."

The silence stretched out between the pair for far too long, and Pony thought he might die.

"You’ve been thinking about that a lot, haven’t you?"

Oh no. Two-Bit was not turning this into another therapy meeting. Pony couldn’t stand the way his friends always tried to look for some broken part of him. He was fine, damn it, he didn’t see why the others couldn’t realize that. What happened couldn’t hurt him anymore, he just knew it couldn’t.

"No." he answered, refusing to look at Two-Bit. The gangly man stayed silent, as if debating if he believed the words. He didn’t press it, choosing to walk inside the Curtis house before Pony could make another move.

**Author's Note:**

> It started as a one-shot Ponybit requested by my dear friend Stephenie over Skype. It became so much more.  
> I've always liked the idea of Pony having to deal with the long-term of what's happened to him, of losing so many people in so short a timespan. So this went from simply a Ponybit to 'Pony has to learn to deal with his problems and not bury them like he has before.  
> I don't even know how long this will be, but at this point I am rambling. Thank you for reading!


End file.
